The Long Way Home
by cowgirlfromhell
Summary: ATF/AU - In a bid to take down an arms dealer Ezra Standish makes an impulsive and foolish decision and suddenly he has lost his way.  Who will stand by him as he takes the long way home?  Borrowing Mog's ATF AU once again.  Please heed the MA rating. Ezra/OFC
1. Chapter 1

Chris Larabee entered the small conference room on the seventh floor of ATF headquarters in Denver and tossed dossiers, the inside sheets still warm from the copier, to the six men who sat at the large table. "We've now got a face to go along with our name," Chris said to his team, "This is Kyle Lackland a multi-billionaire exporter/importer and philanthropist."

"Hell, it's easy to give away a ton a money if your makin' it runnin' guns and sellin' drugs," Vin Tanner commented leaning back in his chair. He put his boot up on the edge of the scuffed and worn conference table, a dour look on his handsome face. He hated men like this joker, men with enough money in one hand to buy their way into heaven while holding a syringe in the other leading kids to a life of hell on earth.

Larabee continued, "He's 54 years old, highly respected in the Denver community. Political contacts out the ass with..."

"Holy Shit!" Buck Wilmington said aloud. Instead of following along as Chris read the intelligence report, the ladies' man had perused the folder in front of him and had come upon the pictures contained therein. He issued a low whistle, his interest defiantly piqued as his libido kicked up a notch.

"...with the prerequisite trophy wife," Chris finished loudly and mentally sighed as he watched the others dig deep into their respective dossiers to check out the photos of their intended target and his wife at various social functions.

"Some guys have all the luck," JD said wistfully as he stared at one photo and ran his finger lightly across the shiny surface.

"Well, I for one would surely like the chance to console this little lady after we take down her sugar daddy," Buck added with a smile that bordered on a leer.

"Buck, it seems this particular trophy can tell you "never" in seven different languages," Josiah observed, "She has a masters in linguistics from the Sorbonne Nouvelle."

"That's if she don't go down right along side him, Nathan said and tossed his picture packet aside to begin reading the pertinent information on Lackland and his various businesses.

"Yeah. She's gotta know how her husband makes his money so why would someone like her stay with a scumbag like that if she ain't in on it? 'Side's he's old enough to be her father," Vin, a solid believer in guilt by association, added tersely.

"Mr. Tanner, by now you should know that most people will sell our souls for the right amount of money," Ezra said as he studied a photograph of Mannon Lackland standing next to her husband at some function at the Governor's mansion. She smiled radiantly but Ezra noted that that smile never seemed to reach her eyes...in any of the other photos. He'd seen those same eyes a thousand times before...each time he looked in the mirror.

Sighing softly to himself, Ezra began memorizing everything about Lackland and his wife. When he went undercover, his life would depend on how well he "knew" these people, how well he fit in with them and into their lifestyle. He had to be able to convince them all he was a high roller, smart enough and financially able to hold his own in their world. He would also have to convince them he was as dirty as they come.

"If Ezra doesn't want it, I'd like to volunteer to be the UC on this assignment," Buck volunteered leaning back in his chair, long legs stretched out in front of him, "I think I'd be perfect for the job."

"Oh, we have no doubts as to your talents as an undercover man, Buck," Nathan said, " God only knows how many times you've been caught under covers by one irate husband or another," the medic deadpanned and Buck rewarded him with a scathing look.

"Good one," Josiah chuckled, "As old as the hills but still good."

"Chances are pretty good you'd blow the whole operation all to hell the first time you got caught with your hand up this guy's wife's designer skirt," Vin added nodding knowingly. "'sides I just can't picture you rubbin' elbow with these fat cats...no offense."

"Yeah Buck, not only do you not know which fork to use, it's all we can do to get you to use silverware at all." JD said and deftly ducked out of the way when Buck tried to slap him on the side of the head with his file folder.

"Ezra's already got the clothes and the car," Nathan then reminded them, "And the balls to walk right into high society like he was born into it."

"Thank you, gentlemen," Ezra said and gave a small nod.

Chris, trying to rein his team back in again, said with finality, "Ezra's our point man and this is not up for debate nor am I looking for any volunteers." Chris looked to Ezra and added, "Lackland is very thorough but your cover's air tight." The team leader held up a separate folder with Ezra's new identity. "For all intents and purposes you'll be Mark Carvelle right down to your fingerprints. Carvelle is the CEO of a highly profitable security firm with major contracts in the Middle East and is always looking for ways to circumvent the government's regulations regarding the purchase and sale of weapons both domestically and overseas."

Chris sat on the edge of the table, handed the second folder over to his UC and added, "Right now, Lackland and his wife are summering outside of Telluride so we'll set up surveillance in one of the houses further up the mountain from their mansion. We'll be using satellite reception and should be able to pick up most of what's said inside the house, including the offices and library."

"Good," Ezra replied never taking his eyes off of his reading material, "I doubt if I could get within ten clicks of this place with any kind of wire or ear bud. Lackland has a complement of the best private security men in the business."

"Bank accounts have been set up in Cavelle's name and any references you might need are covered. Here's a list of business and social contacts plus a couple of CI's who'll vouch for you if Lackland checks to see just how dirty you are."

Ezra scanned the list quickly as the others waited. When he was through he looked up. "Just checking to make sure Mother isn't one of the latter," he deadpanned and the table erupted in laughter.

Chris quieted them down once more and continued. "Nathan is going in as QWEST and will take care of the phones in the mansion including cells. All calls in or out will be routed straight to us for screening before being rerouted on to their original destinations. We should be able to intercept anything that might compromise you."

"How will I come into play?" Ezra asked as he closed up his dossier and set it on the table before him.

"You'll be flying in from Atlanta to attend a party for the Governor at the Lackland mansion on Saturday night. You'll be staying at the Hotel Essex in downtown Telluride for as long as needed. Buck will drive the Jag and leave it for you there at the hotel complete with rental plates."

A pained look crossed Ezra's face. In case of emergencies, he knew it was safer to have a vehicle he was well familiar with, no time wasted trying to fine the ignition or light switches, but did Buck have to be the one to ferry one of the only joys in his life up the twisting, rutted roads of the Rocky Mountains?

"Party for the Governor. Guess you'll have to rent one of them monkey suits, eh Ezra?"

Ezra looked to his left and lifted an eyebrow. "Mr. Dunne, one does not _rent_ a tuxedo."

JD slapped his forehead, rolled his eyes and quipped, "Of course, how remiss of me."

Chris rolled his eyes, too, and forged on. "Ezra, you'll fly out of DIA to Atlanta in the morning and catch a corporate jet back to Telluride. You can be as visible as you want. Your bio has been fed to the usual contacts at the papers and to the people responsible for setting up this bash. We've already had contact in Atlanta from Lackland's people and it seems the man likes what he hears because you name's been added to the guest list."

"What can I say gentlemen, money talks," Ezra said for a fact.

Chris looked at his watch and stood. "I don't have to tell you all how important this bust is. DEA has been trying to get this guy on a drug count for months but it looks like we'll be able to take him down when our Mr. Carvelle here facilitates one of the largest weapons sales to ever take place in the US. And if this comes off without a hitch..."

"We'll be legends," JD finished erroneously for him.

"In our own minds." Buck added and swung again, this time connecting with the folder.

If Chris Larabee wasn't positive he had surrounded himself with some of the best people in the business, he might have been concerned with the amount of joking around and the apparent lack of respect but the senior agent knew he had chosen wisely and well when he had assembled his team. He had only to clear his throat loudly and he knew they were tuned into every word.

"As I was saying...if this comes off as planned we'll be able to put away the most prolific illegal gun trafficker in the US for life and confiscate the enormous cache of weapons he's been stockpiling just over the border - not to mention Lackland's sizable assets. It'll be a feather in ATF's collective cap for sure," Chris assured them and added, "But don't forget for one second that this man and his associates are killers, plain and simple. So watch your backs."

"Yeah, maybe now we'll get the respect we deserve from the Federales," JD said to no one in particular referring to the bureau's usual subordinate roll to both the DEA and the FBI.

Ezra snorted his derision. The opinions and mandates of his former agency held no significance for him anymore.

There was a knock on the door and when Chris opened it a lovely young blonde administrative assistant stepped into the room. Despite her comely appearance and her 'just this side of regulation' skirt, she was all business and carried with her a stack of papers and a large manila envelope balanced on a clipboard. Walking up to the table, she set her load down and began to disperse the items.

"Agent Standish," she said, "Your ticket, essential's cash, your ID's and cell phones," and handed the thick manila envelope to him along with a receipt, which he quickly signed with a flourish and gave back to her along with a two-fingered salute.

"Your surveillance equipment requisitions, Nathan, Josiah." She cleared her throat nervously and passed the papers to the medic and the profiler. "Your computer equip. reqs, JD," she then said with a quick smile for the computer whiz.

The young man stammered his thanks and blushed as her hand brushed his in the exchange.

"Your vehicle reqs Buck," she added.

"Thank you, darlin'." Buck had seen JD awkwardness dealing with the delightful Miss Hallie Jones and a smile split his handsome face as he took the pro-offered paperwork from her.

Ignoring the obvious invitation, Halliel just retrieved the next paper in the pile and moved on. "Your munitions requisitions, Vin." She slid the papers across the table to him almost as if she were afraid to get any closer to the long haired sniper. The quiet Texan just smiled and winked his thanks as the papers came to rest before him.

"And Agent Larabee, here is your team's Per Diem, directions to the house and the keys," she said hurriedly and handed over her last packet as if it burned her hands, the taciturn leader of Team Seven as intimidating as ever.

Chris signed his receipt and said pleasantly, "Thank you, Hallie."

She still jumped at the sound of his voice and, as he opened the door for her, she looked ready to bolt but took the time to fasten the signed paperwork to her clipboard and then turned. With the number of requisitions and other paperwork being generated, not to mention the rampant rumors, everyone in the office knew Team Seven was undertaking a large and potentially dangerous operation.

"Good luck, you guys," she blurted out and hurried from the room.

Buck's eyes were firmly glued to her nicely rounded backside as she left and, turning to J.D., he sighed, "My, my."

Chris shook his head and shoved the house keys into his jeans pocket, "Saddle up, boys, we're goin' to a party."


	2. Chapter 2

Telluride, Colorado, located high up in the Rocky Mountains where late summer days are warm but nights are downright cold. Team seven pulled into the driveway of a large leased house just after midnight and, with the van and the Expedition safely out of sight in the four-car garage and the Jag waiting for it's owner at the hotel, they began to haul gear inside, their labored breaths coming out in frosty puffs.

Chris Larabee opened the adjoining door from the garage that led directly into a gourmet kitchen and flipped on the lights. He quickly disengaging the alarm system and set about closing the blinds.

"God, will you look at this place," JD said dropping two bags of groceries onto one of the granite counter tops. The kid knew he was going to enjoy his stay as the rest of the team dropped equipment on any available surface and began to explore what was to be their new home for the duration of the undercover operation.

The house, done in muted shades of sand and wine and in keeping with the local ambiance accented with genuine old west memorabilia. Intrigued by the rare and costly western collectibles, Vin took it all in while Buck recalled some of their other surveillance assignments.

"This sure beats the hell outta sitting for hours on end in a van that smells like ass. Just think of the meals I can whip up in this here kitchen." Through ambivalence Buck, the worst cook of them all, had taken up the position of head chef and found a perverse joy in feeding his fellow agents sometimes cold, often times burned and almost always unrecognizable masses of God only knew what. Even his coffee was thick and a few of them thought it was Buck's none too subtle payback when no one else volunteered. But, much to his surprise, Buck thoroughly enjoyed cooking and genuinely believed he was good.

Josiah Sanchez entered a room lined from floor to ceiling with books and said as he smiled at the cases, "Thank you, Lord."

Nathan walked into the library after the profiler. "Man, I can't believe this is someone's "summer house"," he said shaking his head. The communications expert still had a hard time coming to terms with seemingly unlimited wealth. The seven of them worked so damned hard for their meager pay, with little or no thanks, and knew they would never come close to having a home as luxurious as this one. Nonetheless, Nathan would also enjoy himself while he was there.

The huge family room had a state of the art entertainment center, a pool table, a remote movie screen with all the latest movies and video games on DVD and, when he wasn't glued to his computer screens, JD would defiantly be there. Each man also had his own bedroom with private bath.

Buck looked around the room he had chosen and groused, "All this and I have to spend my nights with five hairy bachelors."

"That's right, Buck," Chris said pointedly suspecting he would have to hold tightly to the keys to all of the vehicles. After hours of sitting and listening to dead air or to the boring workings of the Lacklands' day to day life, listening for that one bit of information to hold any meaning, his oldest friend might just hit upon the notion to check out the healthy Telluride night life. Maybe there would be time for that after it was all over, Chris thought, but right now they needed to keep focused on their assignments in order to keep their undercover agent safe and sound.

The rest of the night would be spent packing in gear and setting up the equipment and, after a few hours of sleep, they would begin the arduous job of taking down Kyle Lackland.


	3. Chapter 3

The only traveler on the nineteen-passenger jet, Ezra Standish walked down the steps of the Bombardier Global 5000 an Armani overcoat on his arm and his briefcase in his hand. Having studied the Lackland dossier from the moment he'd left the office to the time his jet touched down he felt he had everything down pat. He would place the dossier into the briefcase and in turn place it in the hotel's safe on the off chance that someone might search his room.

The black stretch limousine waited for him on the tarmac of the tiny airport but he took the time to look around at the magnificent mountains while the driver retrieved his Louis Vuitton luggage from the plane's cargo hold. The journalists and photographers from the major and local newspapers deemed him not as newsworthy as passengers on another jet taxiing in near his and left him to his own devices for which he was more than thankful.

Anyone who might know him as an ATF agent could spot his photograph in the papers but he wasn't worried overmuch by it. If the newspapers were to identify him as Mark Carvelle of Atlanta he found that people would believe just that. It was human nature to believed what one was told, a trait he found extremely useful in his line of work. He stood by until the driver opened the limousine door and stepped into the car and made himself comfortable for the ride to downtown Telluride and the New Ritz Hotel.

The limousine arrived and queued up in a line of similar conveyances all waiting to disgorge the rich, the powerful and the beautiful. Ezra's luggage was placed on a brass cart by a highly efficient and discreet bellman, a mainstay of the hotel. He thanked his driver and preceded the bellman into the richly appointed lobby. There, he checked in and was taken to his suite which he was pleased to find as lavishly appointed as the rest of the hotel.

Tipping the bellman handsomely, complements of ATF, Ezra dropped his coat on the bed, poured himself a Scotch from the mini bar, sat down at the desk and dialed Chris on one of the burner cells to let him know everything was a go. He then removed the SIM card, broke the spine of the phone in half and slipped the pieces into his pocket to dispose of later. He refilled his drink and sat down in one of the two wing chairs to enjoy the quiet. With that one phone, call Ezra Standish was gone and Mark Carvelle of Atlanta, Georgia had arrived in Telluride, Colorado on a late afternoon flight.

The following evening, after canceling the limo that had been sent for him, Ezra drove the Jag up to the gates of the stately Lackland mansion where a security guard searched for the name of Mark Carvelle on the guest list. A photo was placed discreetly next to each name and, when the guard found that everything checked out, he instructed Ezra to pull up to the front doors where a valet would take his car.

"I'd rather park it myself if you don't mind. Can't be too careful," Ezra said and smiled engagingly.

"Yeah, I know how these kids can be with some of these cars", the guard said and pointed toward a large concrete apron, "You can park over there."

Ezra chose the most easily accessible spot and pulled his keys from the ignition. It would easier to get out if something did, in fact, go wrong. As he exited the car he looked up the mountain and gave a mental two-fingered salute to his colleagues before walking up to the front doors where he was ushered into a large foyer with marbled floors, floor to ceiling mirrors and huge but tasteful flower arrangements.

The estate had a large greenhouse, one of the Trophy's passions, and she had arranged all the flowers herself he was told. He thought it a gentile and fitting way for a rich bitch to spend her copious amount of spare time. A butler opened another set of doors that lead into a large ballroom where the festivities were taking place.

Ezra entered and, glancing around, stepped to the end of the receiving line. He recognized some of the local royalty but, since he was from Atlanta, it was not unusual that Mark Carvelle would not know any of them personally. He continued down the line shaking hands and telling people his name until finally presenting himself to Kyle Lackland.

"Mr. Carvelle," Lackland greeted him warmly, shaking his hand firmly, "So glad you could make it."

"Please, call me Mark, Mr. Lackland."

"Then please, call me Kyle. I'd like to get together later this week if that's convenient for you."

Ezra assured him it was more than convenient and the older man turned to his left and said, " I'd like to present my wife, Mannon."

Ezra thanked him and stepped to stand directly in front of Lackland's wife. She was even more beautiful than her photos, dressed in a simple and classic burgundy gown that shimmered and changed colors each time she moved. Her long, thick, ebony hair was done up high on her head and tendrils fell haphazardly to frame her face. She wore a stunning diamond necklace that he knew immediately was real around her slender neck and on her wrist she wore a matching bracelet. Nestled behind the large diamonds Ezra noticed a plain gold cross.

"Mr. Carvelle," she said offering her hand.

Ezra took it gently in his and lifted it. He then lowered his lips to just above the smooth, perfumed skin and noticed the large diamond engagement ring and matching diamond band, obviously very costly and somewhat ostentatious, on such a delicate finger.

More accustomed to the hearty bone crushing handshakes of her husband's American associates, surprise registered in her dark blue eyes and she smiled a little shyly, "It's so good to meet you. Your name has come up quite a bit as of late."

"In a favorable light, I trust," he replied and let his natural southern accent honey coat his words.

"Most certainly!" she said and laughed.

Ezra found he liked the sound of it but, before he could converse with her further, the momentum of the line forced him to continue on to greet the state's new Governor and his wife. Momentum again forced him forward until he was back in the crush on the floor of the ballroom. There he stopped to chat with a well-known former football star who had strong ties to Colorado and roots deep in the republican party. He eventually reached the periphery of the mass where he waited patiently for the reception line to finally came to an end.

Moments after it did, the guests were allowed access to the buffet tables where opulent creations of the best cuisine money could buy lined table after table. Ezra smiled at the thought of the odious creations Buck would be foisting on his hapless victims when he felt a gentle touch on his sleeve. "I trust everything is to your liking, Mr. Carvelle." The wife was suddenly standing in front of him, a guilt edged plate in her hand.

He could smell the faint sent of her very expensive, slightly musky perfume clinging to her...Parisian no doubt. "Yes, this is quite magnificent," he said and allowed her to precede him in the line as he selected Beluga caviar, imported cheese and thinly sliced veal, "But please, Mrs. Lackland, call me Mark."

"I shall...and you must call me Mannon," she said picking a few items to fill her plate but which he was sure she would never eat.

"It's a very unusual and beautiful name."

"Merci."

Ezra had noticed the very faint French accent when she first spoke and he smiled.

"My husband asked me to look after you. He thought you might be at a loss around all these cowboys."

Lackland had sent her and Ezra felt a small bruise to his ego. Was the crime lord truly being considerate or was he using his wife to bring him into line. Men in Lackland's business weren't above using any means to pressure or coerce and he wondered what the couple's relationship was. He hadn't had a chance to observe them together yet but, taking the high road, he would accept her concern at face value and showed her to a settee against one wall where they sat next to one another engaging in small talk.

Ezra found his buffet partner to be articulate and extremely knowledgeable on a variety of subjects and, in spite of himself, he was enjoying himself immensely until Lackland stopped by to claim his wife. He led her back into the ballroom to signal the start of the evening's festivities, dancing to a live orchestra.

Watching her as she walked away, his emotions suddenly in turmoil. Ezra realized he could be headed for big trouble and vowed to rein in his sexual desires and stay away from Mannon Lackland. To that end, he asked the first unattached female to dance.

Buck tore the headphones from his ears and tossed them unceremoniously onto the table. "Goddamn pansy-ass dance music," he muttered. The ladies' man had been listening for well over two hours; catching only a decipherable phrase now and then amidst the garbled voices, clinking china and clanging silverware.

"I'll take over," Nathan offered and approached the kitchen table where the ops station had been set up, "I love a good orchestra."

"Why couldn't they have had a country and western theme? A hoedown maybe!" Buck wondered aloud.

"Maybe next time, partner," Josiah said and squeezed Buck's tense shoulder, "Coffee?"

Buck accepted the offer but wished instead for a six pack of beer. Tonight they weren't expecting to do anything more dangerous than sit around and gather information, a scarce commodity until the majority of the guests left. Across the table from where Buck sat, JD's terminals were mostly blank. Only a few sporadic items had come in from the bureau on other ongoing cases so the kid was in the game room.

"I bet Ez's eating up this high society shit," Nathan said as he slipped into the now vacated chair and put the headphones on.

"No doubt, brother, no doubt." Josiah said as he handed Buck a mug of coffee.


	4. Chapter 4

The following day a sleek black limousine pulled into the circular drive of the exclusive Beau Visage Spa and came to a stop at the entrance. The driver opened the car door and Mannon Lackland stepped out of the car dressed in a black Giorgio Armani Prive suit and impossibly high red Christian Louboutin heels. Then, just as her husband had instructed before boarding his jet to Mexico City, he retrieved her suitcase and overnight bag from the trunk and saw her safely to the door.

The limousine pulled slowly away from the curb and back onto the highway and ,with her hand on the ornate brass door handle, Mannon saw a reflection in the glass, stopped and turned slowly. A sleek black Jaguar XKR175 Limited Edition coupe was parked a few feet away and Mark Carvelle, dressed in Armani business casual, leaned against the passenger side front panel, his arms crossed. Her eyes locked with his, his gaze intense as if he wanted her to read his thoughts. Without acknowledging him further she turned and entered the building.

Ezra continued to stand by his car in the hopes that she would come back outside. Moments later she reemerged carrying only the small overnight bag and walked purposefully toward him, her lovely face unreadable. He opened the passenger door and she let him help her into the passenger seat. Kyle Lackland's wife stared straight ahead as Ezra Standish placed her bag in the trunk. Her gaze never wavered as he started the car and drove out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

Mannon's heart raced as she realized that she must be utterly insane to simply get into a car with a virtual stranger but she wanted to know this man better. She hadn't given much thought to her marriage vows until then and found that they held little meaning for her. It had been just another contract brokered by her rich and powerful husband, the specifics spelled out by a priest and a lawyer, giving her over to him body and soul.

Mannon's life was privileged but sex with her husband was cold and perfunctory at best and she longed for the passion that had always been missing from their relationship. Kyle Lackland was only passionate when it came to wealth and power and his, often times, unscrupulous business dealings left her more than cold. At their very first meeting she had seen the passion in the eyes of the man sitting next to her and the anticipation of being with him far outweighed any fear or guilt she might feel at the possible betrayal of her husband and the breaking of her marriage vows.

Ezra accepted her uneasy silence and, with his eyes still on the road, he reached over and gently rubbed his knuckle down her cheek. He heard her sharp intake of breath and turned to look at her with heavy lidded eyes and a half smile on his face. She smiled back and he was well pleased that she had come with him despite the enormity of his breach of protocol. Since meeting Mannon Lackland he had thought of little else except to be alone with her and, after spending a sleepless night tossing and turning, he could no longer help himself. If she hadn't come with him willingly, he just might have kidnapped her. He took her hand in his and the sexual tension grew thick, as did Ezra's body, and he pushed the Jag well over the speed limit in order to reach their destination as fast as humanly possible.

Less than an hour later they pulled into the driveway of a small, rustic, log cabin at the end of a secluded dirt road. Looks were deceiving and the small structure was bucolic only on the outside. The refurbished interior boasted all the modern convinces and a most tasteful decor. The ATF agent had done most of the work himself between assignments and when time allowed. None of the others knew of the cabin's existence. It was his private sanctuary, his escape when events became too overwhelming - which they had often of late.

Ezra exited the Jag and opened the passenger door to help Mannon out of the low-slung car. A small patch of snow remained in the shadows of the pines just before the door and, ever the gallant, he picked her up and carried her across the snow and across the threshold of the cabin. He set her on her feet but didn't release her.

They had spent most of the long drive in silence, leaving thoughts and emotions to boil just under the surface and he lowered his head and kissed her softly. A small groan escaped her throat and just hearing the sound he knew he was already lost. He threaded his hand through the soft, thick hair at the nape of her neck and crushed her lips with his, all the while guiding her to the foot of the bed where he gently forced her back onto the soft mattress. He followed her down never once breaking the kiss.

Mannon felt as if her body was on fire. Her breath quickened and, when she felt his leg between her thighs, she strained against him.

Ezra felt her heat and closed his eyes to try and keep some measure of control over his raging desire. He had to slow down if he wanted to pleasure her the way she deserved but found it next to impossible. He rose up on his knees and started to unbutton her silk blouse and, when fingers fumbled, he simply pulled the blouse open and tiny gold buttons flew everywhere.

Her full breasts were encased in a sheer lacy red bra. He undid the clasp freeing them and buried his face in their warmth, sucking and nipping her erect nipples until she cried out. He rose up on his knees again and looked down at what she willingly offered him. Shiny ebony hair fanned out around her beautiful face, her lips swollen, her eyes dark with passion. He stared into the depth of those eyes as he unbuttoned his shirt and Mannon was mesmerized by the smoothness of his well-muscled chest and reached up to caress him. The feather light touch of her fingers nearly drove him over the edge and he quickly removed the rest of his clothing, then her silken thong. She was completely naked before him on the large bed, a feast for his eyes and his mouth.

Arching up against his tongue she began to cry out and he entered her swiftly, his engorged member very nearly denied entry by the contracting muscles of her intense orgasm, the first of many, he vowed. He drove into her up to the hilt and after a few deep thrusts allowed himself his release and came explosively into her, bucking, his groans in sync with hers. Her eyes slowly opened as she continued to breathe raggedly and, still buried deep within her, she reached up to brush his sweat soaked hair from his forehead. It was the simplest of gestures but something he could never remember experiencing before and he took great pleasure in it.

His new found joy was quickly tempered by the knowledge that Mannon Lackland would soon return to her husband and her very real life, a life he was going to help destroy and he wondered just what he would do in the aftermath. Whatever the outcome Ezra knew that he would be that much poorer for having had her only to have to let her go.

According to Lackland's itinerary, Ezra had five days to store up sweet memories to help get him through the bad times ahead and he refused to waste any more time thinking about the inevitable. They made love twice more and then lay together; Mannon wrapped in the crook of his arm and snuggled tightly into his chest, his face nestled in her sweet smelling hair. "God, you smell fantastic," he murmured and she smiled and moved closer into his warmth. He then asked, "Will you stay?"and stroked her arm waiting for her answer.

He was fully prepared to take her back to Telluride if that was what she wanted. They had made no prior arrangements; just a rash, spontaneous getaway and he wanted to be sure she wasn't having second thoughts, although it was pretty late in the game by then.

"Yes...for as long as we have," she whispered and looked up at him. She kissed him deeply to let him to know that it was her choice to stay and laid her head on the pillows while he pulled a quilt over the two of them.

Going against every law enforcement instinct in him Ezra asked, "How did you meet him?" His question was not to garner information about the man himself but to know more about the man's wife.

Mannon was momentarily taken aback by Ezra's question and wondered how much she should reveal to him about her life. Theirs was a brief encounter at best and he would soon be gone and she felt it couldn't hurt to tell him her story.

"The first time I saw Kyle I was twelve years old. He was standing outside the walls of my convent school in Lyon just watching as we children played. I didn't think twice about it until the next time I saw him. He was in my own home offering my father a lucrative position to run a small winery for him in the next town. After that, a few times each year, I was brought to the school office to talk with this imposing American about my studies, how I liked the school. I knew he was my father's employer and benefactor and, even though I didn't really want to, I spoke to him freely."

"I told him that I loved the convent and wanted to join the order as soon as I was old enough. He just laughed and patted my hand and when I graduated I found myself in Paris with a chaperon and enrolled at the Sorbonne. My father's benefactor had arranged it all. I was heartbroken at the time. I thought I had the true calling but I did as my father wished."

"While away at school I fell in love. Not with a boy but with the spoken word and I learned to speak several languages in the hopes of one day putting them to good use, perhaps as a missionary but, when my family came to Paris for my graduation, Kyle was there with them. I thanked him for his kindness and he told me it was of no consequence to him. He wanted a wife who was not only beautiful but also well educated he said and slipped this on my finger."

She held her hand up and the large diamond engagement ring and diamond encrusted wedding band sparkled in the lamplight.

"I didn't want to be married. Not to any man and surely not to a man I barely knew and certainly didn't love. I took the ring off and tried to give it back to him but Kyle only laughed. He had only to look at my father who in turn grabbed my hand and forced the ring back on my finger. It was then that I realized that I had, in essence, been sold to this man, the "contract" signed, sealed and delivered when I was a young child. We were married the very next day."

She related it all as if it had happened to someone else and looking at her slim, elegant fingers said, "I have always hated these," and she took off the rings and threw them across the room.

Ezra smiled at her small victory. He knew that he would have to retrieve them but for now they would stay where she had thrown them. "You could leave him," he suggested and smoothed back her hair from her still flushed cheek.

She laughed humorlessly and continued. "I left him the year after we were married. I went back to France only to find him waiting for me. After that I knew it would be useless and I returned to San Francisco with him. I was allowed to go back to France a few weeks later to attend the funeral of my parents. They were killed in a horrible traffic accident and I have been the submissive, dutiful and supportive wife ever since."

The impetus for her sudden obedience was there in her story for him to hear and she was suddenly overcome with self-loathing. She was married to a ruthless man who would go to any lengths to keep her, a man who was still more stranger to her than not and she had accepted her situation without a struggle, too afraid to defy him...until now. Taking Mark Carvelle as a lover was only her second act of defiance in her ten years of marriage and she prayed for his sake that her husband would never find out.

The deaths of her parents had been a message that Mannon Lackland had received loud and clear. She knew full well what her husband was capable of and still she had gone with him while he had totally ignored Chris Larabee's warning about Kyle Lackland. Ezra knew she would have to return home as planned to keep her husband from becoming suspicious and he desperately hoped they could keep her safe until the man was either in custody or dead.

"You must hate me," she said quietly and moved away when she saw the muscles bunch at Ezra's jaw line.

"Why on earth would I hate someone who is a victim, pure and simple? Your husband is a ruthless man. He saw something he wanted and went after a weak man who gave up his most precious possession for money and security," he explained and pulled her back into the safety of his arms, "Maybe you'll find the strength to leave him one day."

"As you can see my life is one of privilege and enormous wealth. It has not been a hardship. Maybe I, too, have been bought."

"No, he may think he's gotten his money's worth but I know you haven't given him your heart or your soul. I can see that much in your eyes." Ezra lifted up and turned to look into her eyes and kissed her slowly. He took her hand and guided it between them to show her he was ready to make love to her once again.

The feel of him, so hard and hot to the touch, thrilled her and she pushed him onto his back and straddled him. Lowering herself, she took him deep inside of her and he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply.

"Oh, my sweet Lord," he whispered in his honeyed accent as Mannon started moving slowly, up and down, increasing her speed as tiny tremors started to build within her. He could feel the start of her orgasm and quickly turned her onto her back and, when she started to cry out "Mark", he quickly grabbed the name from her lips with a burning kiss. "Ezra!" he whispered into her mouth, "Ezra!"

"Ezra!" she cried out in her passion.

The southerner had just made another monumental mistake but he didn't care. He didn't want her calling out another man's name, only his. His orgasm thundered through him and he hissed out her name, the feeling so intense that it took his breath away. He rested briefly on trembling arms and when he was able to move again,he laid back on his side cradling her head to his chest.

Mannon could hear his hammering heartbeat and smiled. In just a few hours this man, whatever his name, had shown her more passion, had been more tender and more caring toward her than her own husband had ever been. She didn't know how she would bear it when she returned to her cold, cold marriage bed and a small sob escaped her lips.

Ezra heard her and gathered her even closer and wished hopelessly that she was his to love and cherish.

The remaining days passed slowly as the two of them spent their limited time together making love, taking long walks in the forest behind the cabin and just getting to know one another. Ezra told her everything, from his abysmal childhood and neglect by his mother, to his troubles while with the FBI and finally about his current employment with ATF and his tenuous relationship with the other members of Team Seven. He told her his real name but didn't reveal anything directly about his current assignment and Mannon didn't ask.

She inherently knew that to delve into the real reasons an undercover ATF agent was in Telluride and had been invited into her home would be a mistake, possibly a fatal one. She chose to acknowledge only that he was kind and caring and soon they were as comfortable as any couple each finding the trust that had eluded them both after years of lies and betrayal.

With Mannon, Ezra let his guard down completely and allowed her see his compassion, his fears and his wry sense of humor, emotions and traits he usually kept locked away. He could make stupid mistakes and say anything that came to mind, be as sweet as he wanted or become angry without fear of retribution because he knew she would never judge him.

Mannon laughed at the mistakes and allowed him to stop being so hard on himself. She blushed at the sweetness and understood his anger. He in turn could comfort her when she spoke of her parents, laugh with her when she tried her hand at cooking and just be comfortable sitting silently with her as the sun went down majestically behind the mountains.

At the end of the five days, they drove back to Telluride, again in relative silence, each lost in his own thoughts. Their lives had changed irrevocably but they both knew they would go on as before, Ezra Standish back to the dangerous games he played and Mannon Lackland back to her husband and joyless marriage. Maybe one day there would be a happy ending for them both but the events that had been set into motion weeks before had to play out first. Ezra kissed her good bye and she smiled and caresses his cheek, safe in her love for him, then hurried into the spa to pick up her other bag and call for a car to take her home.


	5. Chapter 5

Slipping his card into the reader, Ezra opened the door to his darkened hotel room and, as he reached for the light switch, he was hit by a brute force that spun him around and slammed him, face first, into the wall. Someone placed a forearm across his shoulders and pulled his arm up painfully behind his back. Anger flared in him but he was helpless to do anything but grunt.

"You stupid son of a bitch!" a voice said from out of the darkness.

After a pregnant pause, Ezra drawled, "'Evening, Mr. Larabee," and knew the reckoning had begun.

"Are you compromised?" Chris demanded and when Ezra refused to answer he pulled up on the arm harder until the southerner's shoulder threatened to dislocate. "Are you compromised?" he growled again.

In a quietly disconcerting voice Ezra finally hissed out, "Yes."

Chris let go of him abruptly and a lamp switched on bathing the room in harsh light. Ezra saw Vin Tanner slouched in one of the chairs next to the desk. Running his hands through his hair in exasperation, Chris Larabee turned to his crack marksman and asked, "Can you terminate her if the situation calls for it?"

Vin nodded thoughtfully. "Acceptable loss," the Texan replied referring to the percentage of lost lives considered acceptable on any job.

Ezra couldn't believe what he was hearing and ground out, "If you lay a hand on her, Mr. Tanner, I will fucking kill you."

Chris quickly turned on Ezra again, a look of disgust on his face, his voice quiet and deadly calm as he reminded him, "You ran out on me...again."

The undercover agent stood silently with his back literally against the wall, his jacked up arm held close to his chest. He didn't say a word because he had no excuse, wouldn't even try to explain to this man why he had acted so rashly, so stupidly, compromising the operation, his teammates and himself. "I'll tender my resignation immediately," Ezra said instead, all he had to offer in the way of an apology.

"No! No way! You're gonna see this through to the bitter end," Chris told him deciding to continue on with the operation, hoping that damage control could salvage it. "Lackland's been back for two days now hunting for his wife. He put two and two together and came up with you. She's fucked but you may be able to bullshit your way out of this. With their age difference it's not like he thought she'd stay faithful to him forever," he added as he walked over to stand next to the desk.

Ezra just stared stupidly at his team leader and ran a hand over his face. Vin noticed the slight tremor in the undercover agent's hand as he did.

Larabee continued, "He'll probably accept the fact that you fucked his wife. It's what guys do. What he won't be able to accept is his wife fucking someone else. That's something whores do. He's old school so it'll all be her fault...even if it wasn't."

Ezra closed his eyes. He knew what Chris said was true. He had pursued Mannon but Lackland would only remember the way she had "flirted" and "come on" to the high roller from Atlanta. It was all complete and utter bullshit but it was most likely the way it would play out.

Chris stared at the uncluttered surface of the desk and continued, "Let him contact you. Let him take the lead. Set up the buy if the guns are still on the table. Maybe this thing can be salvaged and we won't have to run home with our tails between our legs like a pack of beaten dogs."

There was complete silence in the room until Chris turned again to Ezra and spoke angrily but from his heart, "I don't know about you, Standish, but this job has taken everything from me. I mean everything." The memory of his wife and son shattered his train of thought and Chris hesitated for a moment before he could continue. "It's also given me something to hold onto and that's the knowledge that, for every Lackland we take down, there are that many fewer guns in the hands of criminals and kids in this country. It's all I have to hold onto right now and I won't let some disillusioned, jaded, self absorbed fuck take me and the rest of this team down with him."

Ezra sighed and a smile flicked across his face. It was a smile of pure guilt but Chris mistook it for self-satisfaction and quickly closed the gap between them. He grabbed Ezra by the arm and pulled him until there were only inches between them. "I'll accept your resignation when this is over," he hissed as his cold green eyes bored into Ezra's, "if I don't kill you first."

Ezra's face drained of color and Chris left the room without another word. Vin got up to follow but hesitated a moment and came to stand before the stunned undercover agent. "Should'a thought this one out long and hard, pard," he told him. Team Seven's sniper agreed wholeheartedly with his closest friend and mentor's decision but nonetheless reached out to squeeze Ezra's shoulder briefly in a true, though restrained, gesture of friendship. Ezra turned questioning eyes to him and the Texan explained, "I came along so he wouldn't get blood all over this fancy hotel room."

A look of genuine concern briefly crossed Ezra's face and was gone as quickly as it had come. Vin snorted softly and shook his head as he left the room thinking that Ezra Standish would never change. The undercover agent slid down the wall and folded his arms across his knees and laid his now throbbing head on them. His life was fast turning to shit and he couldn't seem to stop it. He had neither a glib comment nor an innocent smile with which to charm his way out of this one and, as Chris Larabee had said, he would have to see it through to the bitter end

As he sat, Ezra began to face the harsh reality of his life, a life that had always been screwed up but one where he had tried diligently not to hurt anyone else along the way. Now it seemed he had done just that. After several minutes of self-reflection the telephone in the room rang. He stood up and reached for it. "Carvelle," he answered in a steady, confident voice.

"Mark," Kyle Lackland said through the receiver, "I'm so glad you're back in town. I've gone over the details of your proposition and I think we can do some business together. Can you come by the house?"

The gunrunner sounded innocuous and as friendly as ever. Ezra thought that he was good, almost as good as him when he told Lackland, "I had made arrangements to spend the evening with the pretty little filly who flies my jet but I know she'll understand. Business first I always say."

"Outstanding. Can you be here at seven?"

"Absolutely," Ezra assured him.


	6. Chapter 6

Chris Larabee stood beside Buck Wilmington in the kitchen of the surveillance house, his ever-present cheroot clamped tightly in his teeth They listened as Kyle Lackland, only a half a mile down the mountain, stood in his richly appointed library, his back to the door, staring into a crackling fire. Raising his head, the arms dealer picked up the photograph of his wife that stood on the mantel and, as Ezra entered the room and without a second thought, tossed it onto the flames.

The ATF agent felt his stomach sink and his pulse quicken and, as Lackland slowly turned around and he saw the look of utter hatred on the older man's face, he knew he was screwed.

"Mr. Carvelle, I want to thank you for taking time away from your busy schedule to keep _my wife_ company during my absence."

Lackland spoke to him in a soft, controlled voice not unlike that of Chris Larabee's when he had threatened to kill him. Yeah, totally fucked, Ezra thought as he ran his fingers through his hair and decided he would try the obvious. "I did call on you a few days ago and, finding Mrs. Lackland here alone, I invited her to accompany me to see a cabin that I'm thinking of purchasing. She was so bereft without you that I though the trip might cheer her up."

"Cheer her up," Kyle repeated with a snort and a malevolent grin crossed his face for an instant.

Chris paced back and forth as he monitored the conversation. The whole operation was at risk, more than likely blown all because his man on the inside couldn't keep his dick in his finely tailored slacks - or see the bigger picture.

It was Buck's turn to baby-sit the audio surveillance equipment again and it was giving the ladies man fits. Only bits and pieces of the conversation could be picked up and he was pretty sure that Lackland's security had set up some kind of makeshift jamming device. As he listened he turned to look up at his highly agitated boss and wondered how Ezra was gonna get himself out of this in one piece?

A fatalist by nature Buck Wilmington believed that none of them had much of a chance of living to a ripe old age working for the Bureau but the idea of being killed by Kyle Lackland 'irate husband' and not Kyle Lackland 'bad guy' totally floored him. Oh, he'd been confronted by a stray husband a time or two himself but couldn't imagine the cold, unemotional Ezra Standish doing something so out of character as to let his lust get the better of him - in the middle of an op no less. He sighed audibly as the others stood morosely around the room, listening and waiting as Ezra tried to salvage what was left of the op.

"Mr. Lackland…Kyle," Ezra said and tried to get a feel for how bad the damage was, "I can assure you it was all perfectly innocent and above board."

"Don't bullshit me, Carvelle...or should I say Standish?"

The op had just become a worst-case scenario. His cover was blown wide open and he was well and truly fucked.

Once the team knew for sure that Ezra's cover had been blown they started to move, checking firearms and preparing themselves to head down the hill to extract their man from the goat fuck the op had become.

"Stand down!" Chris barked putting a sudden stop to the activity in the room, "Let's hear what Standish has to say." He did however gave a slight nod to Vin who grabbed his rifle and flack jacket and disappeared out the back door and into the darkness.

"My loyal wife told me all about you and, once I had a name, putting the rest of the pieces together was a piece of cake." Lackland said as he picked up a thick file from the coffee table and added, "Nasty business with the FBI."

Adrenalin coursed through Ezra's body, his heart beat frantically and his thoughts were momentarily a confused jumble. He knew he was as good as dead unless he could come up with something fast. Something fast and believable. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly to try and give at least the appearance of being calm, cool and collected.

"Sit down, agent Standish." Lackland said and indicated the leather couch in front of the fireplace.

Ezra walked toward the massive and obviously expensive piece of furniture thankful for a place to sit before his knees gave out. As he walked the fatalism his mother had instilled in him from a young age began to numb him to his likely demise. He had taken a gamble and bet on a woman he thought he might be love with, a woman who had turned out to be a betraying bitch married to a killer and apparently, to no one's surprise - least of all his, he had lost. _"Not your finest hour, son". _Ezra could hear Maude as his inner voice mocked him.

Where the fuck had his inner voice been when he'd decided to drive to the spa, he wondered, and rounding the end of the couch he finally noticed a huddled figure sitting in a wing chair in a darkened corner of the room. It was the woman who had led him to the edge of the precipice and, instead of waiting to be pushed, Ezra decided to jump.

"Your wife doesn't know anything. She gave me nothing," Ezra avowed and nodded in Mannon's direction. He was not entirely sure why he wanted to make certain that she would be safe, she who had evidently run directly home and told her husband everything.

"Do I seem like a careless man to you, agent Standish? My beautiful wife has no interest in my business affairs. She has her shopping and her charitable work to keep her occupied and I wouldn't have it any other way. I always knew it would only be a matter of time before some young stud got to her but frankly I thought it would be one of my business associates. Not some underpaid, overworked, civil servant from Colorado." Kyle looked at Ezra with disdain and then told him, "I keep my people close to me, a first line of defense if you will. When one fails me the others move in to close the resulting gap."

There was no emotion in the man's voice and Ezra knew Lackland's wife was already dead to him, as were the security operatives who had missed the wiretapping and eavesdropping equipment. Using the familiarity of the man's first name in a bid to anger him, Ezra said, "Listen Kyle, your wife didn't set out to make you a cuckold. My hard-on was for you, to bust your ass. She was just another notch in the proverbial bedpost so why don't you just let her go? I'm the one you want and she handed me to you on a silver platter. You should reward such loyalty."

"Well," Lackland said as he walked toward the sitting figure and turned on the reading lamp beside the chair, "As you can see it took quit a bit of persuasion to get you on that platter." He grabbed his wife's hair and pulled her head roughly back into the light.

Ezra could clearly see the damage. The blackened eyes, most likely the result of a broken nose from which rivulets of dried blood had run, her lips swollen and split, the bruises on her neck. The southerner wanted to kill the unfeeling bastard who stood next to her, this gentle convent reared woman, this tortured soul. Lackland's possession to do with as he pleased since she was a child. He wanted the squeeze the very life from the man's throat and release his fetid soul to hell. That thought and more flickered in his eyes as he stared at Mannon.

"I see you do have feelings for my wife," the gunrunner observed and stepped away from her.

Hoping for a reprieve -at least for the woman - Ezra could show nothing but disdain for her. She had suffered enough at the hands of the son of a bitch and hopefully his team was on their way down the hill and would be able to at least extract her. Barring that, maybe Lackland would be struck by lightning as he stood in his library.

Ezra smiled at the thought and said, "Do you know she cries out in French when she climaxes?" The blow took him by surprise and blood gushed where his teeth had cut painfully into his cheek.

"The way I see it," Lackland said shaking out his hand, "If my wife is to continue in relatively good health, you and I should make some kind of deal."

"I'm listenin'," Ezra said and pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket to wipe his bloody mouth.

"I've made arrangements for the buy to take place tomorrow night. I want you and your team to show up as planned. Of course you'll all be walking into a trap. My men will have orders to spare you and, when the others are taken care of, you and my slut of a wife will be free to go. A little reward for your cooperation in ridding me of one man in particular. With your past no one will think it the least bit out of character for you to have betrayed your fellow agents."

"I would consider a deal but you have nothing with which to bargain," Ezra said spitting blood into his handkerchief, "Your wife means nothing to me," he stated and as the lie left his lips Mannon Lackland stood up unsteadily.

Ignoring her husband completely, she took a step toward Ezra and he silently begged her to stop, to just leave the room. He knew if she came to him, that if she even touched him he would crumble and her husband would be justified in putting a bullet in her head. He kept his arms stiff at his sides, his hands balled into fists and, when she stopped directly in front of him, he saw that she was crying softly. Her tears cut rivulets in the dried blood on her face and just as he had feared, she slowly raised her hand to his cheek. The touch of her icy fingers burned like fire.

To protect himself Ezra Standish could be an unfeeling, uncaring, cold-hearted bastard and, for the most part, it didn't bother him. But he couldn't let this woman die thinking that all she had been to him was a potential source of information, a duty fuck and he gently enfolded her in his arms where she rested her head wearily on his chest.

Lackland nodded in satisfaction as he watched the tender moment shared between his wife and her lover, sure he had the man right where he wanted him.

Ezra laid his cheek atop Mannon's head and told him, "I'll do whatever you want." Ezra would promise Lackland anything just to get out of the house and, as he told the lie, a tear slipped down his cheek.

"Je'tiem," he heard her say softly and as he took her face gently between his hands he closed his eyes so she wouldn't see the betrayal in them. He loved her. He knew it now but couldn't kill six innocent men to justify that love. He drew her close and whispered in her ear, "I'm so sorry."

Mannon raised her face to his and as her lips touched his tenderly,Ezra realized she was saying goodbye and he died a little more inside. She opened her mouth on his, her tongue probing and something metallic struck his lips. He opened his mouth to receive a small piece of metal before she was roughly pulled out of his embrace by her husband and shoved toward the door.

"Very touching," Lackland said sarcastically with a self-satisfied smirk on his handsome face.

Ezra wiped a final bit of blood from his lips and returned the handkerchief to his pocket. "What next, Mr. Lackland?" he asked submissively.

"I'll call you with the details," the gunrunner replied and picked up his drink. He lifted it in a farewell salute to the ATF agent and cautioned, "Remember, if even one of you fails to show up she's dead."

"I'll want to see her before I call in my team," Ezra said going through the motions.

"Agreed," Lackland replied as he, too, went through the motions. He would keep his wife alive for a few more hours then, once his men located the others, he would take great pleasure in killing her.


	7. Chapter 7

The tires of the Jag squealed unmercifully as Ezra raced down the mountain toward the town center. He managed to call in on his cell phone while negotiating the hairpin turns and JD picked up and hit the speaker. "Tell me you heard all of that," Ezra said in a tight voice as he fought for control of the car as well as his emotions.

"You were gonna set us up," JD accused him and his voice broke like a pre-pubescent teenager's.

"I don't have time for this! We need a court order to get into a safety deposit box, now."

"I'm assuming you have a key but do you know for which bank?" Chris asked as he took the cell phone from JD and continued to pace.

"There are only a few in town and I'm sure with a little coercion someone can tell you whether Mannon Lackland has ever been a customer." As Ezra spoke he noticed the headlights of the vehicle following him and snorted derisively. Given the right terrain the Range Rover HSE could make it to town as the crow flies but having to follow the twisting roads of the development, the jag, with it 5.0 liter V8 supercharged 510 HP engine, just left them in the dust.

Josiah put a call in to Judge Orin Travis waking him from a sound sleep and the federal court judge made his way to his study to work up a court order.

Nathan put a call into ATF headquarters to obtain the personal and emergency numbers of the bank managers while Chris and Buck left to pick up Vin before they headed to town to rendezvous with Ezra.

"He was gonna set us up," JD repeated from his place at the kitchen table.

"Son," Josiah sighed, "How was he gonna set us up when he knew we were listening to his every word? Ezra can be a lot of thing, some of them pretty unsavory at times but he would never turn his back on us. He chose us over Lackland's wife and she evidently means a lot to him."

JD nodded and sat back to pondered the complexities of life and love.

Buck drove the Expedition slowly down the road toward the mansion looking for any sign of the sharpshooter while Chris was being patched through to the bank managers via the ATF office. Vin suddenly appeared in the headlights, rifle in hand, causing Buck to slam on the brakes flinging them both forward. "Damn," he swore, "He's like a frigging ghost!"

"What's up?" Vin asked as he opened the back passenger door and jumped inside, "I just saw Ez tear outta here like a bat outta hell followed by Lackland's boys." Vin wrapped the scope of his rifle in a discarded tee shirt and stowed the firearm in the back.

"He's on his way downtown. Got his hands on a safety deposit box key," Buck told him over Chris' voice as he barked angrily at the bank manager of Wells Fargo. The man, evidently not in a receptive mood after being awakened in the middle of the night, was finally convinced to get his ass to the bank or face arrest for obstructing justice.

Slapping the cell phone closed Chris wondered about the key and hoped that this had been part of Ezra's plan all along - to get to Lackland through his wife. He needed to be able to trust his undercover agent in order to keep him a part of his team. He wanted to vindicate his recruitment of a supposedly "dirty" FBI agent to those at ATF who had and still thought it a reckless move on his part. He had seen something in the southerner that he hoped was still there - integrity - and he decided to hold off on any further judgment until the op was over.

A guard stood outside of the bank Chris had told him was Mannon Lackland's and knocking him aside, Ezra ran to the vault where the manager waited, the bank's key to box number seven already inserted into the top lock. Ezra slipped his into the other keyhole and turned and the locks tumbled.

The manager opened the doors and pulled out the large box and placed it on the table in the private viewing room. Ezra lifted the lid and found a large amount of cash, assorted papers and a few velvet jewelry boxes from some of the very best jewelers in the world. Exactly the sort of items one would expect to find, he began pulling them out and wondered why she had given him the key. Did she want him to have this, her worldly possessions?

Ezra knew she must have had more of a reason and, lifting the jewelry boxes out and opening them one by one, he finally he found what he had been looking for - a platinum, heart shaped pendant. The manager recognized it as a finely crafted and extremely pricey piece of jeweler but Ezra recognized it's true value, a diamond encrusted flash drive. He grabbed it and walked out of the room into the lobby just as Josiah, Nathan and JD were coming in.

"JD!" Ezra called to the young man and held up the pendant on its platinum chain, "Boot one of these computers up."

JD took one look at the pendant and smiled. He'd heard of thumb drives coming in every size and shape, including one that looked like an actual thumb but he'd never seen one shaped like a heart and covered in real diamonds. The young agent slid deftly into the chair in front of the nearest desk and switched on the computer. It took him a few moments to find the catch release and when he pulled it the heart split in half revealing the USB connector. He plugged it in and the others huddled around the desk, staring in anticipation at the screen.

After assigning Vin and Buck to secure the parameter of the bank, Chris joined the others as the screen flickered to life. There was no password, no encryption code to break, just information. Information on every drug and gun deal Lackland had ever put together. He was meticulous in his record keeping while his wife was just as meticulous when it came to copying and storing the information.

"God, is this man anal or what?" Nathan asked as he watched the detailed information scroll up the screen.

This was information ATF, DEA, FBI and Interpol would all be very interested in and Ezra straightened up, satisfied with what he had seen. Everything they needed was there, names, places, dates and the money trail. All they needed to put the final nail in Lackland's coffin was someone to flip on him. They needed his wife.

"You need to have Judge Travis sign and fax a search warrant for Lackland's residence here," Ezra suggested as he headed for the door, "Have him date it yesterday."

Before he could make it out the door, Chris grabbed him by the arm. "We have to do this by the book," he reminded the undercover agent.

"Fuck the book. If the warrant doesn't get here in time, I resign and you can charge me with first degree murder," Ezra said and tried to shake his arm free.

"Get a vest," was all Chris told him before finally letting him go.

"The Judge says the signed warrant will be here in a few minutes," Josiah said, his ear still pressed to his cell.

"Wait for it, then take JD home," Chris told the profiler then turned to JD. "When you get back to the house transfer all the intel on the drive to SAC Dunlop ASAP," Chris said then reminded him, "Delete every detail from this computer before you leave."

"Right, boss," JD said as he heard the jag pull away from the curb, tires again screaming.

"I got him into a vest and gave him my colt," Vin told Chris when the senior agent came out of the bank.

Leaving Josiah and Nathan behind to make sure JD arrived back at the surveillance house in one piece, Chris, Vin and Buck donned flack jackets and followed Ezra back toward Lackland's estate but not before alerting the local police department as to the location of the Range Rover and the suspicious looking men inside.


	8. Chapter 8

The Jag came to a stop a few yards from the estate's back fence. Ezra exited the car, tucked Vin's Colt into the waistband of his slacks and started trotting toward the hidden gate that led into the fortress's greenhouse. Once inside he carefully made his way down the center aisle with only the moonlight to show him the way. He waited until the guard passed by and then stepped out and clubbed him hard on the back of the head. It was a hard hit but at that point he didn't really care if he had killed him or not.

Unlocking the servant's entrance door was not a problem and Ezra stealthily made his way through the back of the house to the bedrooms where he could her Lackland shouting. The man sounded out of control, unusual for someone so completely in control of every aspect of his life at all times; except for his wife. Lackland could no longer control Mannon and his only choice was to kill her and no matter how the deed was carried out, he was rich and powerful enough to literally get away with murder. That knowledge bolstered his courage and he held a small handgun to his wife's head while he continued to rant. "Bitch in heat...fucking whore...faithless bitch..."

His words didn't hurt her nor did the gun frighten her. Mannon Lackland had made peace with her God and stood silently waiting. She hadn't asked forgiveness for committing adultery because with Ezra it had been too glorious to be a sin. Her betrayal of her own heart years before was her sin, her marriage to this monster her penance.

Ezra watched her for a moment; his heart swelling with love as she calmly stared down the beast. He reconnoitered the situation and raised the Colt drawing a bead on Lackland's head and started to squeeze the trigger. Infuriated beyond all reason Lackland mirrored Ezra's actions fully intending to shoot his wife in the head at point blank range but the ATF agent was quicker, more experienced.

The bullet tore through Lackland's head, the momentum of the 45 caliber projectile pushing him sideways away from his intended target. But the dead man's final reflex caused his gun to discharge, the bullet missing his wife's head but clipping her neck instead. Her surprised eyes found Ezra's as he hurried into the room and she smiled.

Thank God, she's all right was all he could think before the blood, that had momentarily refused to flow, erupted from her wound covering her shoulder and breast immediately. "Oh, God!" he moaned as Mannon's eyes rolled back in her head and she started to crumple.

Shouts and gunfire exploded on the front lawn as the rest of Team Seven made quick work of the remaining guards and entered the mansion through a shower of splintered wood and broken glass.

Ezra grabbed for Mannon as she collapsed to the floor. "Oh God, please no," he begged and slapped his free hand over the wound. So much blood. "Nathan!" he screamed, "Nathan!" The wailings of various emergency vehicles filled the air amid shouts of his name as the others searched for him. "Nathan!" he screamed again.

The former medic burst into the room and saw the blood covering his partner and was sure Ezra had been hit. He holstered his sidearm and rushed to help but pulled up short when he saw Mannon Lackland in the arms of his friend.

"Nathan, please," Ezra beseeched the black man as he looked up pleadingly into his face.

"Let me have a look, Ez," Nathan said and reached for the undercover agent's bloody hand.

"No! If I move it... there's so much blood." Even with pressure on the wound, blood continued to seep through his fingers and onto his vest, his shirt and his pants. Mannon's face was deathly pale and she began to shake uncontrollably.

Nathan tore the bedspread off the bed and wrapped it around her. "This'll help keep her warm while I get the EMT's." The woman's wound was almost assuredly fatal but Nathan sprinted from the room to do all that he could not to let his teammate down.

The EMT's entered the room and the two of them squatted down next to Ezra to begin triage. "Are you hurt, sir?" the younger member of the team asked.

"No, it's Mrs. Lackland. She's been shot."

"Oh, fuck!"

The older and more experienced of the two shot his partner a scathing look. They were supposed to triage, stabilize and transport, not offer an opinion on a patient's condition and outlook, although he had thought the same thing when he had first seen the woman. He pried Ezra's hand away from the neck wound and blood still pumped slowly from it. He hung and started a saline IV while his partner applied a pressure bandage.

"What's her blood type?" the paramedic asked.

"I don't know," Ezra replied.

"Type O it is," the paramedic said and hung the appropriate blood bag while his partner made room for the gurney.

The two of them removed the woman gently from Ezra's arms and loaded her onto the gurney and rushed her to the waiting ambulance for the short ride to the small hospital on Main Street where various surgeons and operating nurses had been assembled.

Fully intending to follow, Nathan held Ezra back. He was not her next of kin; the man lay dead on the bedroom floor was, and Ezra would be lucky to even find out if she made it to the hospital alive. He was just an ATF agent who had shot a man in the performance of his duty and was to remain on scene until it was secure. Even after that, he couldn't contact the victim unless the family specifically requested it but Nathan felt it was a moot point. He had seen such wounds before and the victims usually bled out in a matter of minutes.

He held onto Ezra's shoulders and steered him into the hallway just as Chris and Buck passed them by to check the carnage in the bedroom. Ezra blinked owlishly as if he didn't recognize any of them and said in a voice dulled by shock, "I thought I could force his gun hand away with a head shot."

At that point Nathan realized that, after the bullet has struck Lackland, the dying man's reflex had allowed him to exact his revenge after all. "Oh, fuck," he mumbled and watched as the shock of the events took hold of the undercover agent.

Ezra's breathing turned shallow and rapid, he broke a sweat and his pallid skin felt clammy to Nathan's touch. He moved him through the house and outside to sit on the bumper of a volunteer fire truck where the firefighters gave him oxygen and wrapped him in a blanket.

As he sat, the ambulance transporting Mannon to the hospital finally left the scene and he moaned, "Oh, Christ," and covered his face with trembling, bloodied hands.


	9. Chapter 9

Chris pulled into the driveway of the surveillance house and killed the Jaguar's engine. He and Ezra had been the last of the team to leave the mansion. They had ridden in complete silence and, after the engine died, Ezra remained motionless and stared straight ahead making no move to leave the car or to speak.

Larabee got out, rounded the car and opened the passenger door. He leaned in and touched Ezra on the shoulder and, like a man possessed, the undercover agent bolted from the vehicle and tried to push his way past the taller man determined to make his way back out onto the road.

Vin and Buck, standing next to the van softly talking to each other, saw Ezra's bid for freedom and rushed to Chris' aid. It took the three of them to finally get the southerner somewhat restrained and for Chris to call out to Nathan.

The former medic opened the back door, saw the commotion and ran back inside to grab his med kit. He ran back outside toward the four struggling agents where Buck held Ezra from behind locking the southerner's arms in tight to his body. It was impossible for Ezra to counter the moves of the larger man and finally he stood, panting heavily.

"Knock him out, Nate," was all Chris said and Ezra, realizing what was about to happen, started to fight again.

Nathan rummaged through his bag and pulled out a syringe and a vile filled with a powerful sedative. Wasting no time he simply pulled Ezra's shirt collar down and jabbed the needle home and within seconds all the fight left the half-crazed man and his arms and legs grew heavy.

"Best get him inside before we have to carry him. Put him in my room so I can watch him tonight," Chris suggested.

Buck and Vin half carried, half dragged the semi-unconscious man between them inside and, as they traveled down the hallway, Ezra turned unfocused eyes to look at each of them. He couldn't seem to remember where he was or what was happening and at that moment didn't really give a shit anymore. Suddenly his eyes rolled back in his head and he became dead weight.

"Thank the Lord," Josiah whispered as the trio passed by him.

Lowering Ezra onto the bed in a sitting position, Buck held him upright while Vin undid the Velcro straps on the Kevlar vest and pulled it over the unconscious man's head. Blood had soaked into it and a large black stain showed clearly even on the dark blue fabric. Vin tossed the vest out into the hallway and the two of them laid him gently back onto the bed, his head resting on a pillow.

They then stood back and watched him as JD, who had long since transferred the information on the thumb drive to headquarters, gently placed a blanket over their fallen friend and partner. The young agent suspected that there was a whole lot more to the story that had ended so badly for the southerner and his thoughts turned to Casey. "Buck, you think Casey'd be mad if I called her this late…early?" he murmured.

"Nah kid, I think she'd be mad if ya didn't," Buck said cuffing the young man's shoulder.

Nathan set his bag down and sat wearily on a chair pulled hastily next to the bed. He checked Ezra's pulse and found it slow but beating strongly. His breathing was slow and steady, too, and leaning back he was satisfied that the agent would be asleep for a good long while. A healing sleep for a battered body if not for a shattered soul.

Ezra could deal with all that had happened later, after he slept but he wouldn't have to deal with it alone if the former medic had his way. He would be there to help if his stubborn friend would just accept it. Nathan looked up at Chris who stood silently in the doorway. "He should sleep for at least twelve hours. I can dose him up again if need be and keep him out for longer if you want," Nathan suggested.

Chris came into the room. "I'll stay with him for awhile. Go get something to eat. All of you did a first rate job tonight," Chris added wearily as he took Nathan's place in the chair.

"Thanks, boss." Nathan smiled wanly and left the room to join the others.

Chris stared down at his undercover agent and let out a weary sigh. The dynamics between the two of them were always the same, tumultuous, with Chris deciding he had made a mistake recruiting the FBI agent only to have Standish prove his worth time and time again. Sometimes he felt as if he would go crazy with his warring emotions. He wanted to kill the cocky southerner one minute, then fiercely protect him the next, especially when life tore a painful bleeding hole in Ezra's cold controlled facade the way it had tonight

Phones had been ringing steadily since they had returned and Josiah was still on a line to ATF headquarters in Denver giving the Special Agent in Charge a brief overview of what had happened. It was a sterile report, nothing personal. All the reports originating from Team Seven always read the same, bare bones with very little meat. They kept family business where it belonged - in the family - and if Ezra had fucked up it would be handled within the team, without any outside interference.

"Nathan, phone," Josiah called out just as the man came down the stairs.

Sprinting into the room Nathan grabbed Josiah's cell and identified himself. His expression was guarded as he listened then flipped it closed. "She didn't make it," he said aloud.

"Oh man, that sucks." Buck's brow furrowed as he looked toward the hallway and the bedrooms.

"Poor Ez," Vin said in his soft voice, absently brushing his long hair out of his face to look out the window into the dark. He had always trusted Ezra's instincts. The southerner could read people better than anyone he knew and Vin was sure that his friend had found more to the trophy wife than just her beauty. Hell, Ez always had a string of gorgeous women on the line so it had to be much more. He evidently found enough substance in the woman to come charging back like a mad man to rescue her. Ezra Standish had found something in Mannon Lackland worth fighting for. Something that had made the usually cautious gambler risk it all. His career, his friendship with the six of them, his very life and he had fought the good fight but in the end he had lost.

"I'm goin' to the hotel to get Ez's stuff," Vin told the others, the thought of the blood soaked shirt and pants Ezra slept in off putting to say the least. He didn't want him to have to wear them any longer than he had to.

"I'll come with you," JD offered wanting to help out in any way he could.

"Thanks, kid," Vin said softly and, although he would rather be alone, he knew the kid needed company.

A few hours later, as Nathan dozed in the chair next to the bed, something brought him to full wakefulness. He turned to Ezra and sighed. He'd seen it before in his time spent with Special Forces, a man fast asleep, his eyes closed but crying nonetheless. The undercover agent hadn't moved from where they had laid him but his breathing had quickened and tears escaped from beneath his lashes. Leaning forward Nathan laid his hand on his patient's head and brushed his hair soothingly. He wanted to convey the fact that he wasn't alone, that he was safe and eventually Ezra's breathing evened out and he seemed to rest easier.

Chris had stepped silently into the room and had watched the two of them, a thin unlit cigar between his teeth. "He all right? Thought I heard something."

"He's fine now. Still out," Nathan reported.

The team leader looked at Ezra's tear streaked face and felt pity for him. He couldn't count the number of times he had awakened to find tears on his own face. "You'd better get some sleep," he said quietly, "I'm gonna have to tell him when he wakes up."

Nathan nodded, ready to handle anything that arose after Chris broke the news. "I'll keep some more sedative on hand just in case. It might be best to keep him doped up so he doesn't try anything stupid."

"What more can he do? They're both dead." Chris thought a moment then understood what Nathan was getting at. None of them knew just how the death of Mannon Lackland was going to affect Ezra Standish. Far less had driven men over the edge. "I'll keep an eye on him in the coming days. If I feel he needs it, I'll make sure he sees the department shrink...even if I have to drag him in and sit on him."

Nathan had no doubt that Chris Larabee would do just that. He was the boss and what good was being the king if he couldn't pull rank on his troops every now and then.

Ezra slept for the remainder of the night and throughout the next day. The sun was just setting when he finally opened a bleary eye. The chair next to the bed was empty but he could hear muffled voices in the distance. Where the fuck was he? Lifting his upper body on trembling arms, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and just sat, his brain shrouded in fog. Someone had stripped away his clothing and he wore clean boxers and a clean tee shirt but they hadn't washed all of the blood from his hands. He stared down at them and knew he was going to be sick.

"Ezra?"

Taking a deep breath to quell his revolting stomach he looked up at Chris Larabee confusion still in his eyes. "How long have I been out?"

"Twenty hours," Chris told him.

Ezra attempted to stand but his legs wouldn't fully support him. Chris reached out to help steady him and he said sharply, "Don't!"

It had only taken seconds but Ezra Standish had begun the process of freezing him out and Chris couldn't blame him. He'd been more than hard on him at the hotel and, remembering his harsh words and very real threat, he held up his hands to show that he would respect Ezra's wishes.

"Where is my car? I have to go," Ezra said in a thick voice and took an unsteady step toward the bedroom door.

"She's not there, Ezra. She didn't make it," Larabee told him bluntly and when Ezra started to go down again he grabbed his arm and helped him to sit back on the bed.

Ezra just stared, first at Chris and then at the others who had gathered in the doorway. His face remained impassive as he remembered the shots fired and the blood. So much blood. No one could loose that much blood and survive, he thought, and looking down at his hands again he remembered how he had tried in vain to staunch the flow from her wound.

Vin pushed his way into the room with a fresh change of clothes in his hands. "Let's get you cleaned up, Pard," he said in a gentle voice.

Vin took Ezra's elbow and pulled him to his feet. He let himself be led into the bathroom where he caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. Traces of blood remained under his chin and he could see flecks of it in his hair. His eyes returned to his hands where he spotted even more blood congealed under his fingernails.

Vin started the shower and asked, "You need help getting undressed?" Ezra started at the sound of Vin's voice then shook his head. "Okay, but I'll be right outside if ya need anything."

Ezra's eyes glazed for a moment and he swallowed hard as saliva flooded his mouth. He fell to his knees in front of the toilet and threw up, again and again. Through it all Vin held his head and felt the trembling of Ezra's body as he reacted to the stress and to the medication Nathan had shot him up with. Some minutes later they sat together in silence on the bathroom floor.

"How am I going to live with this?" Ezra wondered aloud.

"It won't be easy...but I'll be here to help ya."

Ezra looked into Vin's eyes and saw only open, honest concern and after a few moments hesitation he made up his mind to accept the offer. He knew he couldn't handle the Lackland debacle by himself. He had no family to speak of nor faith to fall back on he had handled all of his life's ups and downs virtually alone, without help from anyone else. It had taken so much out of him over the years that his inner strength was perilously close to being used up. He was terrified that working through the seduction and death of Mannon Lackland would leave him completely cold and heartless and to save himself he would accept Vin Tanner's simple offer of help.

For now Ezra wouldn't worry about the recriminations and consequences that would surely follow when Chris and others, including Vin, would most likely condemned him for the abandonment of his post and for the ultimate death of an innocent woman. Until such time he would use Vin Tanner's gentle strength to simply survive and "Thank you," was all he could say.

Half expecting Ezra to pull away and close himself off as had done so many times before, Vin was surprise at the ready acceptance of his offer. He had seen the bleak look of emptiness in the man's eyes just moments before and realizing that Ezra was on the brink of self-annihilation vowed to grab hold of his friend and help and support him until the void was filled again. The sniper wanted to see his partner brimming with self-assurance and filled with the hunger the man had once had for the job and life itself and would stay with him until Ezra's eyes shown once more with happiness.

"Water's gettin' cold," Vin said and helped Ezra to stand. "I got clean clothes for ya," he added and set the articles of clothing on the edge of the sunken tub. He then left the room closing the door behind him to give Ezra some much needed privacy.

"Should I check on him, Vin?"

"Nah, Nate. I think he'll be okay for now. There's not a better place for a man to cry than in the shower."


	10. Chapter 10

Seven ATF agents entered the large conference room on the top floor of the ATF building and took seats around a large circular table. Ezra Standish chose to sit near his teammates but still separate from them with his back to the wall. Today they would revisit the Lackland operation with the division chief and various department heads and go over what had gone right and what had gone wrong in the hopes of learning from the experience.

It wasn't standard operating procedure on all jobs but after all the reports had been filed and the dust had settled the Lackland case would be hashed over one final time and then hopefully relegated to a closed file. After this particular meeting was adjourned most of them would be on leave for a week for some much needed R&R - also not standard operating procedure but something Chris had convinced the "powers that be" his men badly needed.

"Good morning, gentlemen." The joking and banter around the table stopped as Division Chief George Halverson called the final debriefing to order. Halverson, a handsome, extremely fit man in his late fifties who still went out in the field whenever possible, had never worked directly with Team Seven who's formidable leader had running like a well-oiled machine. Halverson had suspected, and rightly so, that Larabee would resent any intrusion or interference from upper management especially for the sole purpose of logging field time and he vowed to stick with the other teams; their leader's more easily coerced into letting him tag along.

Opening the first of many thick files that had been delivered to the conference room, he began the meeting. "I don't suppose I need to tell you gentlemen that this was a first class operation," he said proudly. His best team had performed admirably. The zip drive had contained so much more information to work with than just what was needed to bust Lackland and ATF had joined with the FBI and DEA to form several task forces to follow up on the leads provided therein.

Kyle Lackland had been a virulent cancer and his disease had spread far and wide and the 'on the fly' improvisation of agent Standish in the field had made the agency look real good. "You men brought down the biggest arms broker in the US to date. Lackland's reach was enormous and even now heads are rolling, including some top government officials. Thanks in part to agent Standish's quick thinking, we completed a successful operation with acceptable losses and a tremendous payoff. Talking Lackland's wife into turning over the information was a stroke of genius," Halverson added turning to Standish.

Ezra slowly rose to his feet, picked up his suit jacket and, with all eyes turned to him as he opened the door, walked through and closed it gently behind him. Chris excused himself and left the room moments later and caught up with Ezra as he stopped to slip on his suit coat and dark glasses.

Chris stepped up to face the man but, before he could speak, Ezra held up a finger. "You do know, Mr. Larabee," he drawled, his eyes unreadable behind the dark lenses, "The only thing I ever talked that remarkable woman into was bed," whereupon he turned and continued on to the elevators. As he pressed the down button he fingering the small gold cross he had been holding in his hand.

Chris watched his man enter the elevator then turn. A quick smile crossed Chris' usually closed features as the young agent give him a two-fingered salute just as the elevator doors closed. Not bothering to call him back he understood that, for some people, there was no such thing as acceptable losses and running almost true to form in the weeks and months that had followed, Ezra remained isolated from his teammates...with the exception of Vin Tanner.

The marksman had accepted the southerner, perceived faults and all, and although he and the others respected Ezra's solitude and grief, they had never given up on him. They hoped he would eventually softened under the constant barrage of good will that was aimed squarely at him and return fully to the fold. One or the other of them had been sure to invite Ezra to join in, whether it be for a vacation south of the border, a harrowing experience that had landing him, Buck and JD in a Mexican jail for a night, or just to spend the day at Chris's ranch tending the horses.

When invited, Ezra had also helped Vin build a playground in Purgatory, had dinner often with Nathan and Rain and donated heavily when Josiah asked him to help raise money for the repair of a burned out church in his neighborhood. They had closed ranks around him and asked for nothing more than his company and for Ezra the pain got easier to live with. The recriminations he thought would come because of his behavior on the Lackland case had never materialized. His six co-workers had proven to be true friends and, in time, his life got back to normal - as normal as it could be for an undercover ATF agent.

In the months after taking down Kyle Lackland, Ezra Standish received as many commendations as reprimands as he went to the wall time and time again for his teammates, seemingly not caring particularly if he himself lived or died. The southerner took chances but made sure he was the only one in jeopardy and Lady Luck seemed to have his back keeping him safe. Life went on for Ezra Standish and after five years a phone call blind-sided him.

Vin, Chris and Ezra worked late into the evening tying up loose ends on a case they had just successfully concluded when Ezra blurted out, "Well fuck me!" His computer had just locked up for the third time and he slowly leaned back in his chair, pulled his Beretta out of his desk drawer and aimed it squarely at the CPU.

"Whoa there, pard. You don't want to be payin' for another one of those now do ya'?"

"It will be well worth the price, Mr. Tanner," Ezra assured Vin who cautiously slid his chair back away from his own desk.

"Mr. Standish!" It was the new administrative assistant assigned to Team Seven. She had been pressed into service that evening and the comely young redhead was agog at what looked to be the eminent destruction of government property. Her face blanched and she was suddenly afraid that everything she had ever heard about her new assignment was true.

Ezra sighed and returned his side arm to the drawer. "Sorry if I frightened you. How may I be of assistance?"

"You have a long distance call, Agent Standish," she blurted out and, turning on her heels, bolted from the room.

"So much for first impressions, Ez," Vin laughed and rolled back up to his desk.

Ezra picked up his phone and Vin watched as his face ran a gamut of emotions while listening to the speaker on the other end of the line. "Sir, I believe there has been some kind of mistake. I barely knew Mrs. Lackland and I believe her will would have gone through probate over five years ago," Ezra stated, the thickness in his voice clear as he was forced to recall the painful affair yet again. "One week ago!" Ezra's face had gone completely white and his hands started to visibly shake but he did manage to listen until the caller was finished. He then hung up and stared at the phone as if it were a snake.

Through a fog, he heard Vin ask, "You okay, Ez?"

"I've got to go," was all the undercover agent said as he got up from his chair, picked up his suit jacket and headed toward the door in a daze.

"Ezra, wait!" Vin called getting up to follow.

Chris noticed the two of them leaving and stuck his head out of his office. He shot Vin a questioning look and the sniper shrugged his shoulders and continued to follow Ezra as he made his way to the new assistant's desk. Looking down at her nameplate, Ezra asked, "Ms Tolliver, would you be so kind as to make arrangements for me to fly to Paris on the first available flight? It's personal, an emergency," he added and handed her his credit card.

"What's up, Ezra?" Chris asked hearing the tail end of the conversation as he approached desk.

"I need a few days off, Mr. Larabee." It wasn't really a request but more of a statement of fact, "I'll be out of the country." Ezra pulled on his suit coat and absently adjusted his shirtsleeves to smooth the lines.

"When are you coming back?" Chris wanted to know.

"As soon as I know myself I will let you know." Ezra started off toward the elevators and Vin turned to Chris.

The senior agent nodded toward the retreating figure and Vin called out, "Hey Ez, wait up," and took off at a run. He caught up with him just as the elevator doors opened, "Let me give you a lift to the airport."

"Thank you, Vin. I'd appreciated it. I need to stop by my place first to pick up a few things," he added.

Vin let out his breath. Ezra still turned in on himself for self-preservation in times of stress and the sniper had fully expecting to be rebuffed. The extremely private man sometimes opened up to him now and then when they were one on one but this didn't seem to be one of those times. The two of them walked toward Vin's jeep in silence, Ezra just going through the motions and Vin content to just be there for his friend.

As he took a seat in the Jeep, Ezra took a shaky breath and began trying to explain as best he could. "That was a solicitor for a Paris law office. It seems that I have been named executor of Mannon Lackland's will."

"Say what? I thought that stuff was taken care of years ago." Vin suspected some sort of cruel, twisted hoax and was pissed, "Is this on the level?"

"The solicitor assured me the will had been written and attested to one year ago and that it had come to probate after her death…last week."

Vin almost sideswiped an oncoming vehicle when Ezra's cell phone rang. It was Miss Tolliver with his flight information. He was to check in for the red eye to New York where he would then board an Air France Airbus A380 arriving in Paris on Sunday morning.


	11. Chapter 11

Ezra's flights were uneventful and when he slept, it was fitful as the memories of the Lackland fiasco were fresh in his mind once again. When he arrived he found Paris rainy and cold. Checking into the Hôtelde Crillon, he spent another virtually sleepless night before getting up the next morning to shower, shave and don a fresh suit before he headed out.

Ordinarily Ezra Standish would have loved to have been in Paris where he could replenish his wardrobe and dine out at his favorite restaurants but instead he simply hailed a taxicab to the Paris law offices of Meyers and Brown on the Avenue de l'Opéra. The rain had slowed a little and he turned his coat collar up against the chilled wind and ran into the building's entrance. Five floors above he stood in the reception area and shook hands with a small, balding lawyer with a pencil thin mustache named Bastian who led the ATF agent into his office and indicated a chair in front of a massive wooden desk.

"Mr. Standish," he began, "I realize that this has been a bit of a shock to you."

Ezra snorted. That was an understatement if he'd ever heard one.

"Mannon Lackland, or rather Mannon Channault as she wished to be known, came to me and had me draw up a last will and testament. She was young and in good health but, considering her history, she thought it would be most prudent."

Ezra didn't care about the will, he only wanted to know one thing. "How did she die?" he asked, his face unreadable.

"Well, the police are calling it a botched robbery attempt. Madame, along with her bodyguard, was accosted on the highway as they drove to Lyon. Apparently her car was rear ended by another vehicle and when her driver stopped to investigate the damage, two men wearing masks jumped from the other car." Bastian paused momentarily, "According to Madam's driver, who was unharmed, both she and her bodyguard were shot twice in the head before the others fled. Apparently nothing was taken."

Ezra's jaw clenched and he said through his teeth, "Sounds more like an execution than a robbery."

"I agree. Apparently someone made the connection between Madame Channault and Madame Lackland. It's a shame. She was a lovely woman." The lawyer picked up a copy of the will and handed it to Ezra. "Madame Channault stipulate that her home in Lyon and everything therein is to be sold and the proceeds given to you. Money has already been set aside for the family of her bodyguard and for the perpetual upkeep of the convent and the convent school in Lyon."

As hard as it was for the bodyguard's family, Ezra was thankful that, if she had to face death a second time, she hadn't had to face it alone.

"Madame also left this for you in our vaults." The lawyer handed Ezra an envelope.

The ATF agent didn't know what he expected to find but was surprised when the envelope yielded only a piece of paper on which was written a fifteen-digit number and a cryptic, apparently meaningless word. From experience he knew immediately that it was a bank account number and a password. Be it profit from Lackland's gunrunning or profits from his legitimate businesses Ezra didn't care.

"I don't want this," he said and tried to give the envelope back to the lawyer. He didn't want the money; he wanted what had been taken from him - twice.

"Mr. Standish, I have a DVD I would like you to watch before you decide on anything."

Ezra reluctantly agreed and was shown into a small conference room with a table, a television and DVD player. Both were on and ready to go.

"Can I get you anything? Coffee, tea perhaps?"

Ezra shook his head and sat down at the table. What he wanted was a stiff drink, followed by more stiff drinks.

"Please take all the time you need," the lawyer said as he pressed the start button, dimmed the lights and closed the door quietly behind him.

Light flickered on the television screen and suddenly she was there, smiling radiantly like she hadn't a care in the word, her heart very much in her eyes. Seeing her was a shock and an audible gasp slipped out before Ezra could stop it. She looked very much the same to him, beautiful, her blue eyes shimmering, long dark hair shining like ebony, still young and full of life. She would always be young now, he thought, and tears started to gather in his eyes.

"My dearest, Ezra," she began," If you are watching this than you already know that I am now truly gone. I'm sorry for the confusion this must be causing you but I will try to explain the best I can," she said into the camera, her accent heavier than before. She must have been in France the whole time, he surmised correctly.

"Please forgive me for letting you think that I died that day in Colorado. It was decided, for everyone involved, that a press release would be issued in Denver saying that I had indeed passed away. The disclosure of Kyle's business dealings made me, and anyone close to me, a target."

"I was barely alive when the helicopter left Telluride for Denver but the doctors on board were able to keep me stable until we reached the hospital. When I was stronger, and it was deemed safe, I was moved to a hospital in Switzerland. From there I went back to the convent and started my long convalescence," she continued brushing a long lock of stray hair over her shoulder.

"I know you were at the service and I was told how you suffered and I ask that you forgive me for this, too. I was so pleased that you attended and that your friends were there to support you. I'm also so very pleased that they thought enough of you to take my cross from evidence and give it to you," her eyes crinkled with a knowing smile, "I received it on the day of my confirmation at the convent. It was one of the places I was truly happy, there in Lyon, and in a small cabin in the mountains of Colorado. I hope you will keep it always and think of me."

Tears were running freely down Ezra's face and he wanted desperately to stop the recording, to stop the pain, but his hands refused to cooperate.

"I wear a locket now," she told him and lovingly touched the gold piece hanging between her breasts, so close to her heart. He could plainly see the scar on her neck as she did. "I'm sorry I couldn't let you know that I was alive and well but I couldn't put you in that kind of danger. You're probably thinking that I should have let you make that decision but I know that there is nothing on earth that would have kept you from me or me from you if it were at all possible. I couldn't have born the pain if anything more were to happen to you because of me. Your safety and happiness are my only concern. I'm more selfish than you could have ever known, no?" She laughed like a naughty child and he smiled through his tears.

"I have been watching you from afar and am so proud of what you are doing for the people of your city, the children of your city. You must keep people like Kyle from flourishing no matter the price but please try to be more careful. I worry about you, the chances you take," she admonished him from the screen. "I love you so much and wish our time together had been more."

Mannon's lips trembled a bit as she spoke and the camera stopped recording briefly as she composed herself, he supposed. He, on the other hand, was a complete wreck.

"I have another selfish reason to want you safe, Ezra. You gave me back my heart and my soul and I have been truly happy these past years. Now the time has come for me to return them both to you for safekeeping. Please take care of my heart and soul and know that my love for you will pass through death and into eternity. I will love you always."

Her image faded.

"Oh, God," he whispered, tears coursing down his face, "Why?"

Ezra laid his head on the table and knew he would get no answers. His shoulders quaked with sobs and his heart exploded into a million painful pieces, the sharpest ones sure to kill him, as all of the pain and all of the grief rushed back to embrace him once again.

He thought he had banished his feelings to the far reaches of his soul but he welcomed them back with open arms. He had felt like this for most of his life, lost and alone, alone and so full of hurt that he should have known that the respite would be brief. He leaned back in the chair and stared up at the ceiling, tears sliding from the corners of his red eyes and suddenly he didn't know what to do. He was paralyzed with grief.

Ezra loved Mannon for her selfish concern for his well-being and, at the same time, he hated her for the very same reason. He berated himself for not instinctively knowing that, against all odds, she had lived. He began to wallow in what seemed a bottomless pit of despair and guilt. Killing her once had not been enough. He had killed her again by proxy, her death no doubt the direct result of the ATF operation, the case where he had in inadvertently thrown her to the wolves.

He wished fervently that he could share the pain and the guilt with her bastard of a husband but Lackland, if he was even capable of feeling such things, was dead. Ezra was not...not yet. He could do it, he thought. It would be easy. He wouldn't even have to pull the trigger himself, just do something so rash and stupid on the job that someone else would do his dirty work for him.

Having long since given up on organized religion, Ezra had held out hope that there was a place where sufferers like himself would finally be free of the pain. It was a small dream he had held onto as a child when times got rough and now it seemed as if it was all he had left as an adult. He pushed the thought of suicide from his mind. He didn't want to think about it or anything else. He just wanted to leave, to get back on a plane and go...anywhere.

Standing, Ezra wiped his face on his handkerchief and ejected the DVD. He didn't think he'd ever be able to watch it again but couldn't just leave it for some office lackey to watch instead of a soap opera during his lunch hour. Taking in a cleansing breath, he opened the door and walked back into the waiting room and stopped dead in his tracks. Mannon's death had robbed him of his will to live but, as she had said in the video, she had left him a reason to go on living. Her heart and soul.

The child, dwarfed by the large overstuffed chair, sat and checked him out through squinted eyes. She was a dark haired miniature of her beautiful mother - except for her eyes. They were green. They were his eyes and already guarded and suspicious at the tender age of four.

"Monsieur Standish," the nun, who had accompanied the child to Paris from her home on the convent grounds, stood and said with a sad smile, "May I present mademoiselle Lily Channault."

Ezra squatted down and, resting his hands on the arms of the chair, looked into his daughter's face for the first time and fell hopelessly in love. "Bonjour, Lily," he said with a tentative smile.

"Bonjour," she answered in a tiny voice. She did not return his smile - even tentatively.

Ezra noticed the small suitcase next to the chair and sighed. This child's world had been turned completely upside down and he wanted her to feel safe and secure as soon as possible. "Are you ready to go home?" he asked her.

Lily eyed him, suspiciously at first, then steadily and, after a few minutes in which Ezra's heart pounded wildly, she finally held out her hand and slowly uncurled her fingers. A gold locket rested in her palm.

Ezra took it gently from her and felt the warmth of it being held so tightly. He opened it and inside there were two small photographs. One of Mannon and another of himself taken on night they had first met. He looked up and a watery sigh escape Lily as she stared at the locket, her locket.

"I miss her, too, cherie," he whispered and reached out to fasten the locket around her neck. He then extended his arms and she came willingly into them. Arising, he held her tightly and asked, " Can you please call a taxi. I'd like to take her back to the hotel with me now if that's all right."

Bastian picked up the phone to call a taxi while the nun, her assignment now complete, laid her hand gently on the child's head and said, "Au revoir, ma petite," and, just as Ezra had feared, Lily buried her face in his chest and started to cry.

Five days later, after establishing his parental rights and securing a passport for his daughter, they boarded a jet headed back to New York. The two of them had spent their time in France getting to know one another. Lily's grasp of the English language was commendable for a child so young while Ezra's French, although rusty, was quite serviceable. They shopping and saw the sights of the City of Lights before heading to Lyon.

Once there, the two of them visited the large house in which Lily and Mannon had lived and the convent where Lily had been tutored in both French and English. It was also where Mannon was buried and together they placed red roses and blue statice on her grave, the flowers of love and of remembrance.

Now, looking down at his sleeping child covered by a blanket, her head on the small airline pillow in his lap, he placed his hand gently on her back just to feel her breathe. The flight attendants continued to be especially solicitous, fawning over the two of them and Ezra laughed to himself sure that Buck would soon be an enthusiastic baby-sitter once he realized the power of an unattached man with one small girl in his charge.

In his luggage were the remaining papers from the lawyer's office. He would not risk being accused of being 'on the take' and would contact the proper authorities immediately concerning the off shore bank account and abide by their wishes. He had a strong suspicion that the money was untouchable and that the only thing the government could do was tax the hell out of it. Even with that being the case, he could well afford to keep Lily safe and secure for the rest of her life as well as help others such as Vin's street kids and Josiah's congregation.

Along with the legal paperwork there were also letters to him. Mannon had written often telling him about everything; her pregnancy, Lily's birth, her fears as a new mother and her love for them both. Every aspect of Lily's life was there for him to read about and to see in the hundreds of photographs she had taken along with the many home videos. As things had ended up, he could never have been there with them but Mannon had made sure he would miss nothing. From what he had read in the hotel room, long after Lily had fallen asleep, he believed her mother had spoiled Lily outrageously and he would probably do the same.

Ensconced in a New York hotel room and unable to sleep long after he had bathed Lily and tucked her in, Ezra wrote his own letter to Mannon telling her how much he loved her and thanking her for her faith in him to care for and raise their daughter. He also wrote of his fears of being a new father and of the anticipation of milestones to come, like his daughter's first day at school, her first crush, her first kiss.

He would show the letter to Lily someday, perhaps to explain to her why he had threatened to kick the ass of the first boy who tried to kiss her, and he smiled both dreading and looking forward to the future. If his daughter was anything like her mother it would be quit a ride.


	12. Chapter 12

Six men walked from the parking lot at Denver International Airport to the East Terminal, Buck Wilmington and JD Dunne trying to waylay every female they passed. As they approached the security checkpoints, the TSA agents eyed them suspiciously but, with the flash of a badge and a rudimentary security check, they were able to go directly to Ezra's gate.

Vin had planned on picking Ezra up alone when Nathan had said he would like to ride along. Word spread quickly and, even though he may not have wanted them along, the others had volunteered to go anyway. Even Chris, who usually liked to spend his free weekends riding herd on his horses instead of the six of them, had come along. None of them had any idea what had gone on with Ezra in the last week but they would all be there if he needed them. Vin just hoped Ezra wouldn't take one look at the motley crew and decide to call a cab instead.

JD spotted him first as he came out of the jet way. "There he..." JD started then stopped mid sentence. Ezra spotted the young agent and smiled warmly at him but JD just stood and stared.

The undercover operative approached the group, Lily's hand held tightly in his, and said, "Gentlemen, I'd like to introduce you to my daughter, Lily."

Buck, the first to regain his composure, bent over and offered his hand to the charming moppet at Ezra's side and said, "Pleased to meet you, little lady."

"This is Mr. Wilmington," Ezra told her and Lily looked up at him. He nodded discretely and she grabbed Buck's large outstretched hand in both of hers and gave him a hearty handshake.

"You just call me Buck, darlin'."

Lily covered her mouth with her hand and giggled. She liked this tall man with the hair on his face and the big, wide smile.

JD elbowed Buck out of the way and said, "I'm JD." JD took Lily's extended hand and shook it. He yowled and pretended she had an iron grip. Her cheeks dimpled and Lily giggled even more at his antics.

"That is Mr. Dunne," Ezra told her and then pointed to Josiah and Nathan, "and these are Misters Sanchez and Jackson."

Josiah, well aware of his intimidating size and deep voice, simply smiled and winked while Nathan said gently, "Very nice to meet you, Lily."

"Likewise, I'm sure," she replied and Nathan barked out a surprised laugh.

Ezra cocked an eyebrow and continued the introductions. "This is Mr. Tanner."

Vin squatted down in front of her and, taking her hand in his, told her, "I got a whole passel a kids I know will want to meet a pretty little thing like you."

Lily reached out and brushed his long, soft hair with her fingertips and told him, "You're pretty, too."

The group broke into laughter and Lily decided then and there that she liked her papa's friends. They made her feel special and safe - except for one. The man who stood apart from the others with the dark clothes and the dark look on his face. Her papa didn't seem to be afraid of the man and told her his name was Chris Larabee.

Ezra introduced the last of his teammates and when Chris squatted down in front of her, Lily saw how sad his eyes looked. Hoping to make him feel better, Lilly reached around Chris' neck with her small arms and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek - the same thing she did to her papa when he was sad.

Chris stood up, her small arms still around his neck, her body held gently in his strong arms and looked at Ezra as tears sparkled briefly in his eyes. Ezra just smiled. He knew exactly how Chris Larabee felt.

Ezra Standish had never been at peace before in his entire life - until he met his daughter. It was then that he realized how trapped he was by the events from his past that kept him from finding any real happiness. Anything unpleasant or hurtful that had come before didn't mean as much now. He had taken a chance on unconditional love and had gotten it returned ten thousand fold. Hopefully he would continue to receive that same kind of love for the rest of his life.

Ezra Standish felt like a man awaking from a long terrible nightmare only to find himself safe at home in his own bed. He had come home, he now knew, as he watched his colleagues fuss over his daughter. He had come home to his friends; home to a job that he loved and hoped to God made a difference and, most importantly of all, he had brought home with him a small child he knew was a godsend - not just for him but for them all.

FIN

Thank you all for stopping by to read and review.

This story has languished for many years on many a computer and it took some work to update it. DVDs replaced VHS tapes, thumb drives replaced floppy disks, Mountain Bell became Qwest and the Concorde was grounded before this fic ever saw the light of day. What remained the same was the first rule of Magnificent Seven het fan fiction. The boys can have wives or girlfriends but they have to either leave of their own accord or die. I did kill off the love of Ezra's life but I had to leave him a reason to go on living. I hope you enjoyed it.


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